


Counterpoint

by Todesengel



Series: Arc o' Whore!Keith [6]
Category: Voltron: Lion Voltron
Genre: Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-15
Updated: 2011-08-28
Packaged: 2017-10-23 04:31:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Todesengel/pseuds/Todesengel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>POVs from the rest of the Voltron Force during Amazing Grace</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sven

Keith pulled out and rolled off of him, and Sven closed his eyes into slits and pretended to fall asleep. But there was really nothing unusual about that. He'd been pretending to sleep around Keith for years, ever since a computer threw them together back at the Academy, Sven's 'home' ever since his handler had been betrayed and imprisoned.

They hadn't even tried to place him with a family. It was to make use of his talents for the greater good, or so they told each other. He could see the same look in their eyes as his handler had, so he didn't understand the difference. Neither did he care, so he went along with it.

But other people did care. Whispers surrounded him. Idiot belligerent fools who didn't know the first thing about defending themselves provoked him. He reacted as he'd been trained, only to learn that the rules had been altered without anyone notifying him. He'd managed to cripple three of the other boys and seriously hurt another before the teachers waded in. Then he managed to cripple the Defense instructor.

Which led to his first roommate never showing up to claim his space. And his second roommate smiled at him, talked to him - and then tried to take him by surprise while he slept and kill him. Only the instincts his handler had so carefully nurtured kept him from becoming a bloody mess on the bed - instead, he was left with a scar and a deepening knowledge of the different faces betrayal can wear.

The third roommate became progressively more nervous and jumpy - and finally broke and quit the Academy.

His fourth roommate - all big eyes and floppy hair, small and thin, his whole posture screaming 'beta'… His fourth roommate proved to him just how stupid the desire for other people's approval could make one.

He thought that no one would be able to move him. He'd go through the motions, he do as he was told, and someday, when the opportunity arose, he'd strike back at all the fools who thought he was tamed.

And then, Keith came into his life.

After roommate number two, he'd learned how to watch people with his eyes almost closed; how to adjust to the darkness; how to spot the cowardly bastards who thought a knife in the back was courage; how to bait the trap and let the prey walk innocently into it. And Keith had seemed to be exactly like all the other idiots who'd run into his trap: scrawny and cocky and almost desperate to become everybody's friend. So Sven had gone to bed every night and pretended to sleep until he was sure that Keith was well and truly under. Even on those nights when Keith had 'extra training', he would lie awake and feign sleep until Keith came back to their room and undressed and crawled into the bed on the far wall.

That was how he learned _it_. The secret. The shameful truth about the world and Keith.

It wasn't that Keith cried, or that there were bruises on his body, or that he stank of sex. Even if the people who used him weren't careful, Keith was, and he always came back looking just about as neat as when he left. Keith was a good actor. He could smile like always the next day, could joke and laugh and not flinch when someone touched him. But in the night, when he thought nobody was watching, he would sit on his bed, knees held tight against his chest, and press the palms of his hands to his eyes. Sometimes he would whisper hymns. Sometimes he would just breathe, deep and slow and hitching.

These quiet moments of pain, of coping, stirred something that Sven couldn't name. It wasn't distrust, or disgust, or hate, or any of his normal reactions when dealing with people. It was something soft, something silken. Something sweet and hard in the middle that made him want to open his eyes and hold Keith. It made him want to find the people who made Keith shudder in the black night and force them to look at what they'd done, to see what they'd made. It made him want to shake Keith and yell at him, to force him to grow a spine, say no, fight back, stop this self-destruction.

But he didn't. He just watched Keith come back. Watched and felt hopeless, impotent in a way that he'd never felt before. He'd always been able to protect himself, to be strong and fight back and stand up for himself. He thought he'd always be able to protect the things that were important to him, because he was strong, because he was confident, because he didn't mind getting his hands dirty if it got the job done.

Every night, Keith shattered that illusion.

So he just watched Keith. Year after year. Room after room. From one person to the next; from the one who slipped gifts into Keith's pockets to the one who left bruises on Keith's wrists. Sven watched them all and did nothing and felt himself die just a little every time. And every night he promised himself that this was it, that he'd shatter the little lie that had trapped him when he was just an idiot who didn't know any better. But every night that little, soft, twisted emotion that he couldn't name would hold him back.

Sven almost broke the cycle the night Keith came back smelling of blood. It was an old, familiar smell, comforting in a sick fashion, and it brought a smile to Sven's face until he realized that it was coming from Keith.

He almost shattered the little lie right there, almost sprang from the bed, almost stripped Keith down, almost ended the charade. He waited until Keith made a noise, instead, and made a great show of yawning and rising slowly out of sleep. "Keith?"

"Ah. Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." Keith's voice was normal, filled with the false cheer he showered on everybody.

"I smell blood. Did you hurt yourself?"

"Yeah. I slipped outside and scraped my legs up pretty good." Keith laughed and here Sven heard the desperation, heard the silent plea to pretend that the lie was truth. "I didn't think that there was enough for you to smell it."

"I'm just used to it." Sven put his promise to feign ignorance into those words and he watched Keith relax, watched him limp over to his bed. "You should put some ointment on those scrapes."

"It's okay. There're not that bad."

"You don't want them to get infected, right? And they probably hurt." Sven slid out of bed and pulled out his first aid kit. "Look. I've got some medicine. So just take off your pants and--"

"No." It wasn't loud, but there was something so firm, so final about that answer, that Sven stopped what he was doing and turned to look at Keith, who was flushed and trembling, just a little. "Ah. I mean. I can do it."

"Okay." Sven tossed the ointment over and climbed back into bed. He deliberately turned and faced the wall, and acted as if he didn't hear the faint hiss of pain, acted as if he hadn't see that it was Keith's crotch that was stained with blood.

Keith started wearing the red jumpsuit not long after. Sven pretended he didn't know why. He just went back to watching, and within the bounds of their little lie he did everything he could to protect Keith, to keep him safe. But it was never enough to stop Keith's shuddering breaths that filled their room at night, never enough to smooth out the twisted ache that weighed down his soul.

He was never enough.

Arus proved that, even if their entire history together hadn't already drilled that point home.

"Come on. Let's take a shower."

He'd thought it would be better once they were away from the brass. He thought that Keith would stop bleeding. But the hurt was too old, too deep and Sven wasn't big enough to dam up the pain.

The water rushed in his ears, and Keith pressed him up hard against the slick tile of the shower, hard enough to bruise, hard enough to hurt. Sven wrapped his legs around Keith's waist, let Keith use him, let Keith take his pleasure. He drowned himself in Keith's need, gave himself over completely to Keith and his pain. The twisted ache that he could now name as love, wrenched further within him. It hurt, like all the accumulated pain of those sleepless nights where he could only listen and wish for unattainable strength.

Sven wept bitter tears for them both.

He didn't think Keith noticed.


	2. Pidge

It wasn't entirely a lie, the things he did with Keith. It wasn't entirely a lie to play the debauched innocent, to suck on Keith's cock like a pro, to swallow Keith's cum like it was second nature. It wasn't entirely a lie and it wasn't entirely truth.

Pidge let Keith kiss him and wondered which of them was really the debauched one here: Keith, who had sold his body in the name of ambition and the promise of a different life; or himself, who hadn't sold his body to anybody, but given it freely to his brother in the name of 'science'. Or maybe it'd just been in the name of 'curiosity' or 'hormones' or 'puberty'. It was just sex and maybe they'd turned to each other because they were twins, or maybe it was because they were young and alone and thrust unprepared into this strange world and excepted to grow up over night.

He wondered if Keith would find it a turn on to know that the first cock Pidge had tasted had belonged to his mirror image; that the first time he'd been fucked, it'd been by the boy who'd shared his mother's womb; that the first time he'd ever fallen in love had been when he'd turned over and seen a sleeping face that could have been his.

Was it love that had led him to reach down and run a tongue over Chip's cock that hot summer day, so long ago? Or had he just been curious to know if Chip's cum tasted the same as his own, if they were alike even in this detail?

Keith rimmed him gently, teasingly. He had a whore's mouth, experienced, used. It was different from Chip's.

Pidge gasped and thought about which of them was really debauched. Thought about which of them was really the innocent.


End file.
